


second place is just a first place loser

by saintpyrite



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content, Unrequited Love, Unsympathetic Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27854526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintpyrite/pseuds/saintpyrite
Summary: Remus will always come second place to Roman, even when he's the one picking up the pieces.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	second place is just a first place loser

The world is cruel and it never ceases to remind Remus.

“Fuck your brother,” Remus has listened to Virgil’s rants for an hour now, both about his brother; he’s a bigger fan of the drunk rendition compared to the sober one, “He’s such a fucking dickhead!”

Remus doesn’t even try to stifle his laughter, lazy and languid, the sound floats from him. He washes it down with a swig of his beer, it’s gone warm but it tastes good enough. Remus is more invested in the way Virgil paces the apartment than anything, buzzing with anger, swinging his bottle around wildly. 

Maybe it’s the booze or maybe it’s the weed but Virgil is lovely to look at, illuminated by the way the moon filters through the broken blinds of his shitty third-rate apartment. He takes another drag from the joint held lazily in his other hand, though his eyes watch Virgil with great interest. He’s always watched Virgil. 

“I’m serious, Remus,” Virgil slurs his words but Remus couldn’t be sure if it was the world distorting around him or if Virgil was drunk. “I fucking hate his guts!”

Glass shatters into pieces when Virgil throws his empty beer bottle at the wall - there goes his deposit, it’s going to be a ballache to clean when he’s sober. It makes Remus laugh though, it isn’t funny but in the moment, Remus can’t help but drown in Virgil’s anger. It’s a good look on him, Remus notices, it makes him want to touch him.

“Atta’ boy,” Remus says.

He can clean up the mess tomorrow, there’s always going to be tomorrow. He puts the joint out before it burns his fingers, dropping it in the ashtray and dusting the stray ash from his jeans. 

"What are you doing now?" 

“Come on,” Virgil grins madly, a sway in his step as he walks over to the window. He struggles to open it, cursing the rusty lock and it’s enough time for Remus to gather himself. The world is heavy around him and he feels like he’s sinking but Virgil needs him and that’s more than enough motivation to move. Remus huffs, “So what’s the plan here?” 

"I want to throw this out the window before I get plastered." 

Remus merely hums in response, swatting Virgil’s hands away so he can unlock the window. He thinks Virgil might be a little drunk already, though he doesn’t say anything because he’s too far gone himself. Peering out the window, Remus can see the lights below and the hazy figures of distant folk he’ll never know and never meet. They’re high up, he forgets how high the fourth floor is. 

“Any parting words?” Remus asks, resting against Virgil. He’s sinking again, Virgil is just so warm and comforting, “You could make it like a eulogy.”

He doesn’t need to look at Virgil to see the ache in his expression, he can feel the way his body is tense and rigid compared to his own. He should have offered Virgil the joint, too late now, it was his last one and he doesn’t get paid until next week. Remus isn’t sure it’d really help though, not when he catches sight of the little red box in Virgil’s hand. He knows what’s inside. 

The ring shines in the dim light and if he squints, Remus can see his reflection. He wonders how much it cost Virgil, probably way more than his rent costs. 

“I can’t believe I thought--” Virgil grits his teeth, cutting himself short as his anger and heartache bleeds red into his words. He doesn’t finish the thought, instead he just throws the ring box out of the window and the two push against one another, watching the little red box disappear in free fall, lost to the streets below. They hear it hit the ground or more likely the bottom of a dumpster. 

Remus knows Virgil is going to regret this in the morning but he doesn’t want to think about that and the implications behind it so he picks Virgil up, spinning him around and revelling in the way his friend laughs, cheering and cursing. It’s intoxicating. It’s dangerous. 

He can smell slick sweat and smoking clinging to Virgil and it’s intoxicating, the grime and dirt underneath the anxious man makes Remus high from the close proximity. Remus is delirious with it, he wants more of Virgil for himself, he’d be happy to overdose on him. 

“Remus!” Virgil manages between fits of laughter, his fingers digging into Remus’ shoulders as he clings for dear life, “Put me down already, I’m going to throw up.”

He puts Virgil down, letting him slide down his body and they just stand there, close and staring. Remus keeps his hands on Virgil’s waist, slowly moving backward to pull him towards the sofa until his legs hit the back of it and he lets himself fall. Virgil follows, landing in Remus’ lap.

He can’t help but bury his head in the crook of Virgil’s neck, smiling when Virgil squirms, complaining about how Remus’ moustache is tickling him. He lets his hands wander to the small of Virgil’s back, running his fingers and tracing the sliver of exposed flesh there. He chuckles when he feels Virgil shudder in his grip, he wants to see if he can make him do it again. 

He doesn’t though, holding back as he always has. It doesn’t matter what happens, Remus knows who's had hands on Virgil before him. He can’t help but remember that, even through the haze of weed and beer, and it’ll always come to bite him in the ass. 

“Do you think you’d have married him if you’d asked?” Remus asks, mumbling into his skin. 

He was setting himself up for heartbreak, a fool’s errand, he knew he was but god, he needed to know. He wanted Virgil more than anything in the world, wanted to touch and hold him in ways he’d only dreamt of. He didn’t want to be another warm body, not really but he’d take it if it was an option. 

"I don't know," Virgil says, "it would have been nice to have the option." 

Virgil leans back, forcing Remus to look up at him. He can’t help but look at him though, it’s his greatest weakness and he can’t help but feel a little jealous when Virgil steals his beer from the side table and wraps his lips around the bottle rim. God, what it would be like to kiss him again. 

“Careful there, Virge,” Remus grins lazily, words slow and languid like the world around him, “Seems an awful waste to choke on a bottle when there’s a good dick for you right here.”

He rolls his hips upwards to grind into Virgil, it’s meant to be a joke but the way Remus tightens his grip on Virgil’s hips and has to bite down on his own tongue to keep from making a noise proves otherwise. He just wants Virgil to laugh, he doesn’t want him to think about Roman. Not when he’s here, definitely not when he’s here. 

His brother could give Virgil the world if he wanted to do so, he might have done once upon a time but Roman chose to be among the stars and left Virgil hurtling towards the hellhole they call home. Remus would always be there to clean up after Roman’s mess, he’d done so as kids and he’d do so again with Virgil. It’s what big brothers do. 

Yet, he could only give Virgil what he knew and what he knew was an outlet for rage and bitterness. It was a warm body and bad jokes and cheap beer. It was everything Remus despised about himself, dragging himself further and further into the depths of self-pity and he’d hate to bring Virgil down with him, only to be left alone when morning crept upon them. 

Remus didn’t want to think about it; he knows what he’s doing, he knew what he was getting himself into ever since he laid eyes on Virgil. 

"Remus," Virgil's voice rings in his ears, demands his attention and Remus willingly gives it to him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?” Remus says, eager to please.

"Do you think I'm good enough? Do you think that’s why Roman chose his career over me?" 

Remus reaches up to run his thumb against Virgil’s cheek, caressing the soft skin. He has a feeling Virgil is soft all over, a sharp contrast to the prickly nature the man’s always exhibited. Remus finds that amusing, that someone with sharp edges and biting words could be so soft on the outside. Maybe on the inside as well, he wouldn’t know. 

“You’re too good for him, Virgil,” Remus frowns, looking him in the eyes. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted and more. Roman is a fucking idiot, the worst kind of person for choosing anything over ou and I hope that idiot brother of mine wakes up every morning regretting his decision.” 

There is a choked sob, fragile and caught in the back of Virgil’s throat before the man pushes Remus into the sofa. Remus lets him, he doesn’t fight back against the warm hands that go up into his hair or the way Virgil melts into him, kissing him. It’s all teeth and shallow gasps but Remus doesn’t care, he kisses back eager and lets Virgil seize his mouth, his tongue exploring every inch. He holds Virgil by the hips, Remus isn’t sure if he’s holding Virgil steady or trying to ground himself. 

If Remus wasn’t a fool, he’d stop whatever this is but he finds himself digging his nails in deep, meeting Virgil’s ferocity with his unmatched desperation and need. He feels Virgil tug on his shirt, whining as they parted so the offending garment could be pulled from his body and thrown to the floor. Remus pays in kind, unzipping Virgil’s hoodie and shoving it past his shoulders. He wants to touch every inch of Virgil, memorise his skin and leave a memory there, imprinted into his perfect skin. It's been too long since he's touched Virgil, far too long and he'd forgotten how dizzying it was to kiss him.

It's the closest to love he'll ever get from him. 

The hoodie falls to the floor and Virgil is already pulling his shirt over his head. It’s a little funny when it gets stuck, Remus burying his face in the man’s shoulder to stifle his laughter as he struggles to free himself from the cotton prison. 

"You could have helped, asshole," Virgil says, tossing the t-shirt onto the floor. 

“It was funny watching you struggle,” Remus mumbles into his skin before finally leaning back, drinking Virgil in. He lets his hands wander up and down the man’s sides, sinking deeper in, “You look gorgeous, always have done.”

There is no response, only fingers in his hair pulling him forward and Virgil kissing him, silencing anything either one of them had to say. He tilts his head back, giving Virgil access to his neck when the other pulls away to kiss down it. Remus sighs, eyes rolling back and his breath hitching when Virgil sinks his teeth in, going in for the kill. He wonders if Roman ever did this with Virgil, if Virgil ever marked him up all pretty in purples and reds. 

His hands wander over lean back muscles, his nails digging in as Remus drags them down the expanse of pale skin so he can leave a legacy of his own in red streaks. He doesn’t know when he’ll be able to do this again, the thought is sobering and Remus knows he’ll take everything Virgil gives him, it’s all he’s ever done. 

And yet, he feels an ache in his chest as his ribcage tightens, trying to protect his foolish heart, "Virgil…" 

He pulls away and lets his hands fall against the couch to look up at Virgil. He can’t stand it, seeing the way his face is twisted, an expression of confusion and annoyance. He shouldn’t be the one to make him look like that.

"Why'd you stop?" Virgil says, voice thick with arousal and frustration. He rolls his hips and Remus has to hold back a moan, "Come on, Remus, I know you want this too." 

God, more than Virgil could ever know. Remus takes in how the moon sheds light on Virgil’s form, pale flesh decorated in red scratches that’ll remind him that Remus was the one here, touching him this way. His lips swollen and slick, teeth bared in a way that proves Virgil isn’t some wallflower to be toyed with, he’s dangerous and it’s fucking gorgeous. It's every dream Remus has had since he met him. 

"What are we doing?" Remus asks, breathless and straining against his better judgement to let it go, "What are  _ you _ doing?" 

Virgil looks uncomfortable with the question, it was evident that he didn’t want to think about why he was doing this and Remus reminding him didn’t help matters. He couldn’t even meet Remus’ eyes, looking away and his hands falling into his lap. 

“I don’t know,” Virgil says, his voice barely a whisper before he gets off of Remus. It takes everything in him to let Virgil go, clenching his hands into fists in his lap. God, he fucked up big time, didn't he? 

"I just know I want to do this," that catches Remus' attention, looking up quick enough to see Virgil’s trousers and boxers fall to the floor and be kicked to the side, "I know I need this, Remus." 

Virgil reaches down, kisses him soft and sweet as if he could love him the way he loved Roman. It's all Remus has ever wanted, he takes it greedily and tries to forget the guilt and heartache throbbing in his chest. He lets Virgil take charge, Remus can't bear to do so, and so he lets the other fumble with the button of his jeans and pull them down to his ankles before he can register that he's kicking the worn denim across the room. 

Remus finds himself arching into the touch when Virgil wraps a steady hand around their cocks, the delicious friction sending electricity coursing through his veins and a heat building in the pit of his stomach. He represses any thoughts - any doubts - he may be having when he thrusts up into Virgil’s grip, fingers grasping at the man’s hips for purchase.

It was as if he was on fire, the way Virgil stroked them both in tandem with a desperation for release that Remus was happy to chase himself. He’d often felt the predator, the one in charge but the way Virgil was staring him down, coaxing little moans and groans from him and whispering sweet praise in his ear, Remus felt he might be the prey this time. 

“Remus,” Virgil gasps, slowing his hand, “Lube, where is it?”

It takes a moment to process what he’s saying, even more so to get the words out, “Bedside drawer, bottom one,” Remus gasps out, letting out a whine when the friction is lost and the warmth of Virgil in his lap is lost, replaced with the bitter cold of the apartment. 

He isn’t gone for long though, Virgil is quick on his feet and he laughs heartily when Remus pulls him back by his waist, eager to get his hand on Virgil. Remus presses kisses to his abdomen and his fingernails creating new indents in his hips, letting Virgil take his time to coat his fingers in the cold lubricant and reach around, one hand on the back of the sofa and a leg propped up to get better access.

It’s only when Virgil shoves him away, straddling him again and pressing down against Remus’ cock that the intrusive thoughts kick in, “Are you sure about this, Virgil?”

“I need this, Remus,” Virgil presses another chaste kiss to his lips before dragging his teeth against his lower lip, his tone thick with arousal and wicked to a fault but his eyes mirroring the desperation in Remus’ own. Such a pitiful pair they made together, “Please don’t start developing a conscience now.”

It should have hurt, Remus knows it should have but then he thinks about how Roman got to have everything, even now when he wasn’t here. This was the closest Remus could ever get to having Virgil, it’s the one thing and the anger takes hold, possessiveness gripping him as he pushes into Virgil, slow and steady to start. Virgil kisses him to stifle the moan it rips out of his lungs, hungry and eager and for a moment, Remus thinks he was trying to prevent a slip of the tongue. 

Now he has him though, Remus has Virgil so desperate and willing. Everything was so tight, too tight and he can feel the thoughts linger as he begins to thrust upwards into Virgil at a frustratingly slow pace. He squeezes his eyes shut, letting the groans fall out of him and taking in the feel of Virgil clenching down on his cock, how hot and close he feels as Virgil begs him to go harder, make it so he can’t remember a thing. Remus wants to oblige, Remus wants to forget too.

Except Remus never gets the pleasure of forgetting, he’s too aware because all he can think about is how Roman got to have Virgil this way, to love him and have him when Remus got the scraps he left behind. It was fucked up, thinking of how Roman must have fucked Virgil sweet and slow until the other whined and keened for him, whispering sweet words and confessions of love. 

The fucker probably pulled out too - always too good and proper, the high and mighty bastard - he couldn’t fuck Virgil like this, rough and dirty. He doesn’t think for a second when he steadies Virgil, lifting him so he can loom over the man, fucking into him deep as he pulls Virgil’s legs over his shoulders. He can barely hear Virgil over his deafening thoughts, bending to the will of a man who doesn’t love him as he bottoms out, pulling back and slamming back in over and and over, as if it’d change a damn thing. 

_ Always the second choice _ , Remus thinks bitterly.  _ I’m never good enough for anyone or anything. _

Roman gets the starring roles; Roman gets the success and worldwide fame; Roman gets all these great friends; Roman steals away Remus’ best friend without a care in the damn world; Roman gets Virgil, decides to fuck him up and break him and leave Remus to pick up the pieces and yet he’s always going to be second to Roman. 

_ “Fuck, Virge--”  _ Remus gasped, feeling the nails biting into his skin as he rutted up into Virgil, burying himself deep. 

Of course he was though, Roman was one in a million. He was talented and handsome and successful. Roman was everything Remus wanted to be, everything he couldn’t be with his rough and jagged edges; his lack of charm; his  _ everything _ that made him  _ Remus _ .

_ “Remus _ ,” Virgil gasped,  _ “I’m close, fuck, so good for me; come in me, please!” _

That was the punchline though, wasn’t it?

Remus was always good, it’s all he ever wanted to be and he’d always tried to be good enough for Virgil. He was never good enough though, not when Virgil had Roman but now Roman wasn’t giving him the time of day, so Remus would have to do, just good enough to do the job. Good enough for now, a temporary replacement just as Virgil wanted and Remus would give him whatever he wanted, he always had. He could feel the bile in his throat, taste it on his tongue as he moaned out Virgil’s name, feeling the other tighten around him. 

_ “Remus!” _

He felt  _ sick. _


End file.
